Crypt Palace
by fictionismysafeplace
Summary: After having escaped with the Scarlet Guard from Maven's clutches, Mare continues her work with the rebels and is forced to side with Cal—the man who just broke her heart by choosing the throne over her. Back in the castle, Maven faces his own difficulties with the radical movement and court of bloodthirsty traitors who are waiting for a chance to seize the throne for themselves.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

 **Lemme give you guys a quick explanation of this before you read.**

 **FIRST OF ALL: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR KING'S CAGE, SO IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, KNOW THAT I WARNED YOU.**

 **SECOND: I've been practicing my writing in other places, improved my grammar and style and have my own works on Wattpad called REIGN OF ICE and SILENCING SOULS under the account name _fictionismysafeplace_. Both fantasy because I'm in love with magic. I've also started to write a new fic for Throne of Glass which will be my idea of how the seventh book will go (I have some _crazy_ theories).**

 **THIRD: So instead of continuing Silver Throne, I'm going to try writing how I think War Storm will go—of course, under a new title and cover. But the characters, the POVs, they're going to be resuming from King's Cage. All these characters belong to the wondrous Victoria Aveyard, this is just a fanfic of her works. If you guys want me to continue Silver Throne, please let me know.**

 **Also, MAVEN IS MY BABY BOY I LOVE HIM SM KING'S CAGE HAD ME IN TEARS AND THAT'S WHY I THINK HE DESERVES A POV. And, as always, don't forget, dear lovelies, to favorite, follow, review and share :3**

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

 _Maven_

 _I miss her so_ much.

Thoughts of her keep me up at night, wondering where she is, wondering if she's thinking of me, wondering if she's in _his_ arms. Missing her, missing her visits, missing everything to do with her. Hating how she does this to me, hating how she makes me feel, hating how she makes these small slivers of the longing pierce my heart more painfully than they should, yet reveling in it all at once. Every passing day, every passing second, I fall deeper into the darkening abyss where I lose touch with reality.

I shouldn't spend my days thinking about her. But I still do.

She makes me feel. She makes me feel more vividly than ever, yet not a bright, happy feeling. It hurts so much, to love her. It hurts. It is the kind of pain that I want to both cherish and burn away at the same time.

Most of the time, I wish that Elara could have taken my love away for Mare. Sometimes, I don't.

She makes me weak. She makes me feel. She is my conqueror.

I feel like such a fool. She used my feelings for her to get what she wanted, she played me for information, and I just opened myself so blindly to her. She knows so much more about me than I've ever told anyone.

I usually find myself thankful that I don't dream of her. That I can't dream of her. I'd go mad if I did. Maybe that's the one thing Elara was right to do to me. If only I didn't feel so strongly around Mare.

Some days, I wander around the palace, searching for her presence. But she's never there.

"My Lord?"

The voice tugs at me, bringing me back from thoughts of Mare to reality and mild chatter surrounding me. It comes rushing to meet me, and the plate of food in front of me comes into focus. I look up, blinking, and right beside me is Princess Iris. My wife. She gestures to the food.

"Eat, My Lord," she says. "You've barely touched anything." She smiles, the corners of her lips rising. Something disgusting rises in the back of my throat, but I hide it, glancing around. There are people watching, sitting all around us, eager, expectant. They're all like hungry snakes hiding in the bushes, waiting for the fatal mistake their prey makes. Waiting for the moment to strike with their poison.

I return my wife's smile with a slight one of my own, hoping to distract her from the way I stab at a piece of sliced meat on my plate. When I finish swallowing it along with bile, the crowd seems to frown without moving their faces in disappointment, turning back to their own conversations. Iris resumes her hushed conversation with whatever lady is sitting beside her, and I force myself to take a bite of a steamed potato drowned in gravy. I can feel the thoughts of Mare creeping back up on me, the way her lips felt on mine when she'd kissed me so, so long ago.

It seems to take so long for the feast to end. I'm the first to stand up, the chair's legs echoing loudly when they scrape on the ground. A few others stand with me, but all it takes is for me to narrow my eyes and they sit back down. I walk away, two guards flanking me, and the hissing whispers of chatter fade away. My pace quickens with each room I pass and each corridor I enter until I finally reach my chambers. I slam the door shut behind me, panting, breathless, and barely make it to the bathroom before I vomit. She does this to me. The way she left me, the way she used to love me, the way she used to touch me. Everything about her does this to me.

Gasping, I sit back up, wiping the back of my hand on my mouth. I push myself to my feet and wash my face in the sink. In the mirror, my own cold blue eyes stare back at me. The bruises underneath are darker than ever, and my cheekbones jut out more than they used to. There's no color left to my skin, only a pale, sickly yellow.

 _They want to poison me_ , I think. _One way or another, they're going to poison me_.

It's the paranoia. It's the anxiety. It's all madness, I'm not going to be poisoned.

I stop attending the feasts and parties anyway.


	2. ONE

**ONE**

 _Mar_ _e_

 _I slip through the_ double black doors, crouching to hide beneath the round windows, and press my back against the wall, my palms slick with sweat on the plaster. My lungs wither inside of my chest, my throat tightening, and I don't dare to breathe. I rest my hands on the swinging doors to bring them to a silent halt. The hidden cameras fizz and power down. Heavy footsteps echo across the floor, growing louder and louder. Just as they reach the doors, they pause. I flex my fingers around the silver pistol in my palm, grazing the trigger. Just a precaution, they said. In case of Silent Stone.

A bitter taste rises in the back of my throat at the thought of Silent Stone. The puckered white M-shaped brand stings, and for a moment, I'm back in the castle in Archeon, back in a prison where shackles bind my wrists and the spiked collar around my neck tightens and tightens and tightens until death strokes my wrist with its cold fingers. Then I blink, and I'm back in my cramped position behind a set of double-doors, shivering from the cold sweat trickling across the wrinkled brand and down my spine. I breathe, in and out, in and out, desperate to contain the madness, and remind myself where I am.

Careful to keep hushed, I shift one foot behind the other until my heel brushes the wall. I can feel my blood thrumming with energy as it courses through my veins, the electricity crackling across my skin, dancing and curling and twirling like neon purple ribbons around my arteries, every inch of my body tingling with anticipation. The light above my head flickers. My lips part and I exhale deeply before peering through the glass to get a glimpse of the guard posted outside in the hallway. I can only see her side profile but I note the sharp features anyway. She turns, and I feel my chest and breathing hitch, my lightning threatening to electrify the entire building.

The guard pushes the door open, forcing me to thrust my body against the wall again. She glimpses around the corridor before stepping back outside again, and I listen with a relief that grows with how much quieter her fading footsteps become. Once I'm sure that she's completely gone, I gently push the doors just a crack open then crane my neck around the edge to the connecting hallway, where I've already shut off the cameras. A second later, Evangeline pokes her head outside another door, further down the hallway, and nods at me. I first wait for her to make her way soundlessly down the hallway before sliding out and following after her. Even if she and her family claim to be our allies now, I'll never leave my guard open to a Samos. Especially not Evangeline Samos.

She walks with the elegant grace of a panther, prowling around the building, her posture relaxed. Her pistol rests by her hip and her outfit glitters, illuminated perfectly by the rich lights that whine in my ears directly over our heads. She looks like a ruler—like a queen. _Cal's queen_ , I think bitterly. _Cal's beautiful Silver queen_. I try not to scowl, but my face twitches into the typical position anyway. Evangeline freezes, as do I a moment after her, and strain to hear what she heard. I hiss out a curse, pressing myself back onto the wall. The slap of boot-soles strengthens and Evangeline creeps to the new set of doors.

"Cameras," she whispers to me, and I focus on the electricity running above my head, powering the video-cameras in the next hallway. A few muffled fizzes and several pops are all it takes. Two guards walk through the doors, grinning and joking with each other, but freeze when they see me. They reach for their guns and walkie-talkies at the same time, fumbling, rambling at me to get down, and Evangeline steps out from behind them, giving them both blows to the head that make them crumple to the ground unconscious.

"Take that one," she says, gesturing to the smaller guard. I begin to rip off the uniform, setting aside the guns and walkie-talkies, and soon, I'm jumping inside of the fabric, locking the belt around my waist. Evangeline's also just finishing up, stuffing her pockets and belt with as much metal as she can. We dump the bodies and our previous clothes in a spare room, making sure to lock the door.

"Are you ready?" I ask her, attempting to keep my voice even as I smooth down the uniform. She gives me one nod, straightening her spine, and we walk out of the hallway as calmly as possible. My walkie-talkie lets out a whine of static, then a voice rasps out from the speaker, "Moore, Fisher, what's going on down there? All the cameras are out."

I whip around to Evangeline, shoving the walkie-talkie to her. She scowls at me, pushing it back. I shake my head frantically, handing it to her, and point at the swinging doors marked _H4_. She gives a silent exasperated sigh and clicks the microphone on, stating back in an almost-bored drone, "We're in H-four, all's good."

The walkie-talkie buzzes back, "All right, finish your rounds and get back to the cells in H-seven."

Evangeline and I glance at each other, then start to hurry through the hallways, weaving in and out to follow the doors marked with an _H_ followed by a number, until we reach H-seven. I slam through the doors, powering down all the cameras, and graze my fingertips. All four of the guards start cursing, swearing, and grab at their guns but not fast enough to stop Evangeline from sending metal spikes flying at them. Electricity rumbles between my hands, crackling and popping. Screams and shouts and curses go all around the room before Evangeline, her brow glistening with sweat, nods at me. That's all I need.

I clap my hands together. Every light bulb in the room explodes. And I electrocute everyone through the conductive metal splintering their body, courtesy of Evangeline.

My lightning laces itself like ribbons around my fingers, comforting me, lulling me into a sense of calm. I step over the bodies, not bothering to check whether they're dead or just unconscious. Every cell is made of Silent Stone, a great hollow rock wedged into this room. I pick up the keys and unlock each of them one by one, letting Evangeline usher the newbloods out. We sprint through the halls as a group, making it to where Farley waits impatiently in the truck, its engine already rumbling. Evangeline and I squeeze in all six of the newbloods into the back of the truck, and I stagger back. My lightning still crackles inside, begging to be unleashed.

"I'll be right back," I hiss at them, sprinting back to the prison before they can answer. I scale the pipe bolted down to the concrete wall, scrambling onto the rooftop. The skin on my palms is cleaved off, my dark red blood painting a path behind me. The dirt that rubs into my fresh injuries prickles somewhat, but I barely notice. I can feel the thrum of the power inside of the prison, the electricity bouncing along the wires restlessly with nowhere to go after I'd powered down the cameras and burst most the lights. My power demands to be seen, to be felt, to be acknowledged with horror.

Seven guards burst out through the prison entrance, making for the truck. Farley slams her foot on the gas pedal, circling the building. Even as she speeds around, her aim is perfect as she takes down five guards with five shots.

"Get in the _bleeding_ car!" Farley screams at me, but I'm slipping over the edge, slipping into the depths of my power. I don't need the electricity inside the prison. I can generate the energy myself.

Thunder booms overhead. I brace myself for the storm coming.

Lightning struck. It consumed me, my body blazing and glowing with the brilliantly bright purple—and yet, I am completely unharmed. I am safe. I am _alive_ —so, so _alive_. The electricity cloaks me, so comforting.

Screams and gasps erupt from the people surrounding the building. Farley seizes this moment as her chance to pull up recklessly beside the prison, tires screeching. I leap off the roof, rolling onto the hood of the truck with a deep thud. She wrenches the steering wheel to the right violently, and we speed away, the wind unraveling my hair, the metallic smell of blood haunting me all the way back to Rift.

* * *

 _I miss myself._

I throw my legs over the edge of the roof as I hide from Farley and her rage, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't gone with Gisa to that fair. The realization hits me hard, how much I miss my old life. The simple life she used to lead, where she didn't have such power in her hands. I miss the past, how Cal and I were before, how Kilorn and I used joke together, how Shade's smile was.

How Maven used to be.

I miss it all.


	3. TWO

**TWO**

 _Maven_

My name is Maven _Calore. I am eighteen years old. I am the King of Norta. I am married to Iris Cygnet_.

It's a little game I play almost all the time. Whenever she evades my thoughts, I shut my mind down and take it slowly, picking out the facts one by one.

 _I am the son of Elara Merandus and Tiberias the Fourth. They are both dead_.

Some days it works. Some days it doesn't.

 _I am in love with Mare Barrow._

Such as today.

I'm lying down on my bed naked, feeling the sheets beneath my palms, wishing that she were here with me instead of Iris, tangled in these sheets beside me. I'm wondering if I should kill her. If that would cure me. I'm wondering if I've gone mad. I'm wondering if killing her would only break me more.

I hate this. I hate her. I hate myself for loving her.

Iris stirs beside me in the bed, rolling on her side to glance up at me. We barely talk. All we do is smile in front of the court and use each other at night. She's good at acting, but I don't want an actress. I want my Red Queen. I give Iris a slow look with narrowed eyes. The corners of her lips twitch downwards and she rolls back to her previous position, the one where she wasn't facing me. I don't love her, but I don't hate her—not completely, she doesn't matter enough to me. I wish she were someone else, someone who'd never be mine. Iris pushes herself out of the bed and gets dressed in under a minute, leaving the room without so much as a nod and a simple, "My Lord." I'm supposed to follow her, to apologize like a husband should to his wife, but I couldn't care less.

I wait for a few minutes to tick by before crawling out of bed. The drapes are pulled over the windows, cloaking me in darkness. I hear the light pitter-patter of rain dancing on the glass and think about the lightning that may follow. If she will hit first.

Her lightning is so beautiful. I never thought I'd crave to see her lightning, poised to kill.

Whenever I think of that elegant electric purple of her bolt, a small part of me wishes she would strike me with it.

A sharp, urgent knock makes me startle, and I grab my pants and tunic, tugging them on urgently. "Enter," I say, smoothing out any wrinkles. The door opens and a timid servant hurries in, keeping their head bowed and gaze averted.

"Your Majesty, General Tyros wishes to speak with you," she stammers, eyes darting from here to there. Her cheeks are stained pink, her expression slightly flustered. "He... He says it's crucial, Your Grace." I fight a scowl and turn back to my closet.

"Tell him I'll be there soon," I say absentmindedly, picking up my crown. Once I hear the door close, I set it atop my dark locks, staring at myself in the mirror. I feel strange. Empty. So much has changed in my appearance, yet on the inside, I am still broken, still tortured. I wonder if that's what Mare wishes for me to be, which makes grimace, shoving away my thoughts of her. The crown no longer tilts downwards over my brow but sits perfectly straight on my scalp.

I can almost feel the metal digging, tightening, squeezing my essence out. Evangeline's name and her traitorous Samos family gnaw at my mind. I shove them deep down, far away, swallowing back what remains in my stomach to stop myself from throwing them up and make my way to the belly of the beasts, where everyone waits to lunge.

* * *

"There has been an attack," growls Tyros, "Your Majesty."

The way he said it had me clenching my fist, flexing my fingers. No emphasis, but the pause between the words...

"The Scarlet Guard broke into a prison and kidnapped eight mutants," he continues as if he hadn't just disrespected me as his _King_. "Several witnesses claim that the lightning girl was with them and—"

 _The lightning girl._

Those three words shatter through my walls, through the guard I'd built, and my breath catches. Tyros drones on, yet the words that come out of his mouth just blend into each other, becoming a buzzing white noise. Only three words are clear, like an icy dagger slicing through my chest, piercing my heart. So precise, so painful.

 _The lightning girl._

Why.

 _The lightning girl._

Why, why, why.

 _The lightning girl._

Why why why why why—

 _The lightning girl._

Why why why does she _do this_ , why does she keep _hurting me so_ —

The white noise fizzes to a stop. Everyone is staring at me, expectant. Or waiting to pounce.

I look down at the map laid out in front of me. Fight the urge to clear my throat. Say, "She's targeting the mutants. We have to get to them before she does. Send out soldiers to track down all the ones in the local areas, then bring them back to the palace under maximum security."

And I compel myself to hold in all the bile swimming in my mouth before I reach my chambers again, throwing up into the sink.


End file.
